Happy 'cause you smile
by Kuro Guardian
Summary: On the eve of the Dark Tournament Kuwabara has undergone a drastic personality change and is displaying new abilities. Having taken charge of his life is Kuwabara really in control or are their more maligant forces at work. YYH X Naruto crossover
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"I quit. Oh, wait I never worked for you in the first place asshole. Later!" Leaving a gobsmacked junior god in his wake Kuwabara exits the office ignoring anything faintly resembling a conscious. After all, why the hell should he care? If the Toguro brothers wanted to fuck with Yusuke well then fine. If they were gonna kill certain people if their conditions weren't met, so what? Not like he had anyone to call family…well - not living- and from experience he knows killing ghosts is a fucking impossibility.

He senses the hand before it grabs his right bicep and pitches him into the wall. Warm coffee-scented breath washes over his face. "Where the hell are you going ugly?! Didn't you hear those freaks?! Don't you care about Shizune?! They'll kill her if you don't get your ass in line!!!" It's really rude to laugh in someone's face, but… Is he fucking blind? Orange hair, blue eyes, and incredibly pale doesn't match up with brown hair, eyes, and skin. The chances of such a genetic windfall… "Urameshi, you're a fucking idiot. Now get off me, I got shit to do."

Not surprisingly the shorter boy's hands only tighten upon him well on their way to leaving bruises. "The only shit you've got to do is get ready for this tourney, got it? I don't know - " "Hell! Doesn't anybody know or at least wonder?! Fine, let me spell this out! 1.) I don't work for Koenma and I can not be beholden to **either **of you. 2.) I'm fucking adopted so Shizune has nothing to do with me, not like she ever did. 3.) And most importantly - I'm giving you until the count of three. 1,2,3!" And suddenly Yusuke finds himself through a wall with several large bone spears through his anatomy.

While Yusuke's condition distracted everyone Kuwabara let his spirit awareness lead him to the appropriate gate. Lacking hesitation he stepped through right as a rose whip snapped toward him. Feet on terra firma he begins to run cutting through dim back allies and damp byways stagnate puddles beneath his feet/ Like the standing hairs on his nape he can sense a tireless pursuer and a little beyond that one a familiar grim reaper. Laughing he increases his pace.

Soon he comes to a stairwell he rapidly descends, cutting left at its dark bottom he hurries through the darkness making an exhilarating dash to the meeting hall. If he is going to enter the Dark Tournament he needs the Honor Blades well-established in his conspicuous absence. Entering the sallow light broadcasted by the ancient spotlight above the heavy, green door he pauses. Like many times before he can feel the tumblers of fate clicking into place - opening this door will irreversibly change his fate. An uncanny smirk distorts his face before blooming into an ungodly Smile. The latch clicks.

**End Prologue**

Sorry, I didn't warn you that Kuwabara was going to be a prat did I? Anyway next chapter sooner, rather then later - by the way does anyone want to send me the list of who fought who in the dark tournament? It'd sure help this story move along faster.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The paperwork before him is satisfactory as he reaches for the pen. He ignores the edgy energy of his temporary teammate pacing just outside the door and cursing a blue streak. From beneath his eyelashes, Kuwabara eyes his temporary boss who eyes him just as intently. They have reached an agreement - a mutually benefit one, though it is obvious who has gotten the better deal. Finishing with a flourish the redhead reclines as the sets of paper are officially stamped and notarized. Lazily he accepts his copy and with a flash of fingers seals it into a small blue scroll. Ignoring the questioning glance upon him, he drawls a single word - "Well?"

The other repays in kind, "Well, at least that's out of the way, huh?" It's obvious the demi-god wants to lose his temper, wants to be smart and sarcastic - instead he is carefully pronouncing his words in an effort to remain civil. Tired already Kuwabara asks the obvious question like always - "Aren't you going to invite the others in yet?" Koenma's brown eyes briefly darken to a visceral black, an effect Kuwabara finds oddly attractive. With a large clearly faked smile, he manages to nod as he buzzes in the rest of Team Enma. The door is all but kicked in as they enter scowls, frowns, and smirks firmly in place.

Staring straight ahead he ignores them all as the situation is explained - a five minute dialogue if Yusuke would shut up and accept it. In his head he counts off the points of his new contract - 1.) he is a mercenary for Spirit World so long as the terms of his contract are unbroken. 2.) His role is strictly voluntary and refusal of assignments cannot be punished. 3.) His records are sealed to all but his spiritual essence i.e. his records are inaccessible until the time of his final judgment. Finally, he is allowed the full access and use of his powers whatever they maybe. That last one being granted is case in point of Koenma's underestimate of him.

Crawling deeper into his head as Yusuke continues to raise Cain, Abel, and Seth he only peripherally notices the silent communication between the kitsune and the Jagannonin as they look him over. Having noted and filed the moment away for later use Kazuma sets himself on autopilot. A full twenty minutes later Yusuke's bitch-fit is silenced by the combine efforts of Genkai and Koenma. "So that's why, alright dimwit!?" Yusuke damn near pops a vein at hearing both Grandma and pacifier-breath call him dimwit. Having Kuwabara sitting there quietly while radiating smugness is more then he can take.

It doesn't help that he hasn't forgotten or forgiven that last attack - "What are you smirking about ass-face?!" For a moment nothing changes except Koenma's anxiety level and the interest level of the demons. Then like dawn breaking, a sweet smile spreads as wide as the sky across the cat-lover's face. "I smile because I'm _happy_ Urameshi. Now shut up so Koenma can give us the final details and _**I **_can get the fuck outta here." Nonplussed Yusuke can only study him thinking, 'What da fuck happened to you man?' Despite or perhaps because of the spirit detective's confusion the meeting wraps up soon after allowing Kazuma to 'poof' out of the room to general confusion.

Riding the train to Ikaijo also known as Tea Country the tall pale man pauses in his musings to assimilate the bushin's data. He smiles as he looks over Yusuke's temper tantrum. 'Idiot.' Settling back he idly fingers his cell phone as his mind turns back to the Honorblades' latest situation. Briefly he considers setting spirit summons on their enemies before dismissing the idea as energy wasting and pointless… However, his only other ideas aren't exactly honorable, but then … right isn't always right. Besides the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, right? So maybe the path to heaven is paved with sins.

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, he shrugs the problem off for now. As his eyes focus on his orange ringlets he frowns. Maybe he'll get a Western cut during this little break. Whatever, he'll get to Tea Country soon and start training for the tournament having something like three weeks to improve on what he knows while finding out what he can really do. A brief flare of rage darkens his sight even as his right shoulder smolders for a second. Shaking his head he takes a deep breath and reminds himself he is the one in control.

Only slightly more at ease he lowers his eye to consider his current situation. He is fourteen-years-old currently in a middle school he hates with superficial people he hates and who can't stand him. He is adopted although his adopted parents have long been dead and his 'sister' is a complete bitch. Thanks to that idiot Yusuke, he's involved in some serious supernatural shit involving gods, demons, and ghosts. Everyone who knows him with the exception of his gang and the guys he is forced to engage considers him an idiot. Recently he has discovered his familial abilities with the help of a new psycho pomp named Kirimi and has gone from being a well-intentional volunteer to being a mercenary with benefits.

Having firmly entrenched himself as an outsider within Koenma's merry band he is currently on his way to Tea Country in order to recover some training scrolls and to meet with a man capable of unlocking his full bloodline. First however he'll need to lose his unwanted followers, Boton and three marginally more powerful unknowns. Hn, he should have trusted Koenma to try some bullshit like this. Ah, well there's a connection coming up so it shouldn't be too hard to lose most of them.

An hour later Kuwabara's glacial blue eyes are glaring into the heliotrope pair of his captive. "So, Koenma looks to circumvent our agreement?', he queries with not expecting an answer. As expected the girl merely spits at his feet. Stupid of her. Idly his large, fine hands toy with the metal lighter he's taken to carrying. Rapidly, repeatedly he open and closes it rhythmically. "You realize that in the human realm spirit reapers are capable of human form and by association human virtues and… limitations?" His voice is deep and cool quite like a snake. For a moment his shoulder pains him and then he is smiling kindly.

"Were you sent only to watch me or were you ordered to perhaps kill me?" Like a pretty illusion, the lighter morphs into a switchblade. Those pretty gemlike eyes are now looking distinctly afraid. "What exactly do you know? Will you tell me or will I take the knowledge from you?" Quietly she says, "Go to Hell." His smile grows wider - "Maybe later darling." When he leaves the compartment, he replaces the Reserved sign on the door and walks carefully through the speeding train to the bar. Sneaking out two bottles, he uses one to douse the blood-spattered compartment while drinking liberally from the second. A spark of spirit energy is all it takes - the fire seals he has inscribed will prevent the conflagrant from spreading while allowing total destruction of the evidence.

Causally he returns to his own reserved car. He hopes there aren't anymore coming for him, because he fears that he enjoyed doing that. He doesn't worry that someone in Spirit World is cringing at that particular tape although he does wonder what his judging committee will think of his recent actions. Shrugging his broad shoulders, he clasps his lips back to the quickly lightening bottle. If someone is dead well then that's just fucking Koenma's fault isn't it? He should have just honored the agreement.

The communicator he removed from the corpse beeps several times on the long ride to until he tosses it out at one of the way stations somewhere through Sarem. He carelessly wipes the blood transfer off onto his black jeans even as Kirimi appears. There 's something unkosher in the gaze the apparition settles on him, but Kuwabara opts to ignore it in favor of planning and bitching about Spirit world's treachery. Soon enough the redhead is left alone to savor the chill of his lips and his recently revealed bitterness.

No one begins life bitter, bitterness is an acquisition like sorrow or wealth or scars. When Kazuma was little he was a sweet, innocent, is not terribly bright kid. He looked nothing like his family and sure, they were rather distant in their interactions with him, but he had a family and a home and one day he'd have friends. When he was seven his drunken stepmother finally gave into depression and her own bitterness. Breath a tide of whiskey sours she wistfully spoke of her long dead son who surely would be better then the dud she and her husband had adopted.

Suddenly his sister's distance and embrasssment made sense. So though he had a home his family did not exist. Worse, no one wanted to be friends with a clumsy idiot who looked like a foreigner - orange hair, blue eyes, tall as hell, with skin like skimmed milk. Gaijin, bakayaro, bakemono, freak - and then were the ghosts attracted to him through his prolonged exposure to the Kuwabara's peculiar energy. When he was nine his fake parents finally died, but not before giving him a particular view on life - cynical and hard.

He went to stay with various foster families who never kept him long because only Okinawa's demons have orange hair and always he was fighting. Real Japanese people don't have blue eyes and Hiroshima wasn't too long ago not with children dying of cancer, little bodies wasting away all the time on TV. He could always tell when the grown-ups had been watching it, because they always took longer to step in. Although they never stepped in until he had gone too far and could be safely punished. Eventually he was put into a home for the troubled where he learned tricks from children stabbed dead in their beds and was regularly tucked in by a woman without a face. Her smashed in head left blood drops across his covers. They thought he was hurting himself.

Almost happy, it's too bad for him that his sister wanted her inheritance and the only way to get it was to drag him back 'home' as the solicitor informed her. Sullenly he went back trying his hardest to avoid her irritation, her anger, her irrationality while searching for something to make living worth the trouble. For a time, there was a girl and if she didn't press to hard, she could almost touch him - that's how he learned to masturbate. After that, he practiced in all the tricks his spiritual conspirators taught him gaining a reputation as a punk even as he gained a rep for kindness and honor.

Still he did badly in school while forming a gang - The Honorblades. He gained a rival one day named Urameshi. He gained the reputation of being a loud idiot who could more then likely kick your ass. He gained real friends, but most of all he gained a nearly insurmountable amount of bitterness because he always had to fight. He fought to gain, to keep, and to live. He fought and he fought and always another thousand battles awaited him. He could not defeat Urameshi so he was regarded as second-rate. He was not cruel so he was considered weak and thus chump-change. He was met only with negative attention. His achievements unnoticed, his flaws expanded upon. To girls he was a loser, a punk, a brute and a menace. To guys a puss, an idiot, someone to spit upon.

And then Urameshi died and began to fuck up his life from a supernatural front. Soon he was dealing with a revived spirit detective and all the problems he brought with him including two demons who looked down on him. Even if Kurama is kind or was, pity is as bad if not worse then the contempt that Hiei showers him with. On top of which he has an incompetent infant judging his abilities. Genkai and Botan are mixed blessings, on the one hand seeing some of him - the Man as opposed to the Dobe. On the other hand they offered no aid, no encouragement, which in fact made them worse then the others.

"Bastards." Before the pity party could begin in earnest the train rolls into Sarutobi station in Akatsuko. Hefting his overfilled blue backpack onto one shoulder while grabbing his other bags from overhead storage. The carrot top squares his shoulders in preparation. This is going to be intense, but he's endured more and worse. "Alright Urahara Orochi do your worse."

**End Chapter 1**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Maybe, he shouldn't have tempted fate. He feels like Hell, bears a startling resemblance to death warmed over, and could have given Rip van Wrinkle a run for his money if time were on his side. However, time has decided to screw him over which is why he is setting a new land speed record in an attempt to make it to dock 16 on time. "Fuckin' Urahara. Fuckin' bloodline side effects. Fuckin' energy exhaustion. Fuckin' slow ass trains." Still grumbling about various uh, promiscuous nouns the ever lanky teen spots the crowded dock and actually manages to speed up. The ship is already beginning to load when his spirit senses pinpoint a certain fox-spirit.

Braking hard enough to damage the steel-reinforced concrete structure the absurdly tall youth manages to smile calmly at his 'teammate'. The other redhead repays kind in kind with a somewhat reserved smile, more polite then engaging. "Good morning Kuwabara-san. I worried that you would be too late. If you follow me our group is closer to the boarding ramp." With nearly feminine grace the 'boy' walks quickly threading seamlessly through the crowd. _'Kazuma's movements are more subtle and efficient. At least his training took care of that.'_ Soon enough Hiei's aura is 'visible' to his senses as is a short bemasked person (Genkai) and an unconscious Urameshi.

Resisting the urge to sweat drop and/or crack a stupid joke Kuwabara settles for eyeing the boy while thinking of reasons for Genkai's pathetic disguise. 'Can it be because they underestimate me and wish to protect me? Or can there be some sort of strategic reason?' Forgetting about it for the moment he looks over the demons - '_same old, same old' at least as far as clothing - their energy levels seemed improved and their confidence as well_. "Have you trained at all?" Hiei of course, "Of course not, training is for vertically-challenged assholes like you." Said with a big, bright scarily wide smile distorting his face, "Anyway, shouldn't we board now?" Not waiting for an answer to the rhetorical question he lifts his unconscious familiar unto his unburdened shoulder and moves to board.

"So, we have to fight? Yay for violence." Wasting energy isn't something he can afford so instead Kuwabara relies on his fists and a fusion of his bone dances with his street fighting moves. Oh, the trench knives he holds don't hurt either. Soon he's covered in an inch deep layer of other people's blood, his eyes closed and his spatial awareness extended in a perfect sphere of fifteen feet. For the fiftieth time in as many days he thinks that fighting is hypnotic. Brutally beautiful he slashes, flips, ducks and parries blow after blow while delivering his own. Somewhere behind him he knows his coworkers engage in their own schemes, but he's busy eliminating competition besides which they aren't helpless.

Cleaning his face on the extra white t-shirt he brought he ignores the inquiring stares while pretending not to notice. "Damn, hope they have a laundry mat or something. Shit, I need a shower." A tingling in the back of his mind slams down all his mental traps. Snarling faintly he feigns ignorance of Hiei's wince. "Genkai-obaasan, how long 'til Urameshi wakes?" Not receiving an answer he isn't surprise. Bending down he picks up the dimwit along with his bags and walks ashore his wary teammates following. Knowing what kind of horror he looks like he isn't shocked to be a focus of attention, still it is rather uncomfortable if only because some are more lustful then intrigued. It's a relief to reach the hotel…for all of ten minutes.

"Dammit what happened to you idiot?!" A punch misses demolishing a flower display. A kick misses leaving a gaping hole in the lobby wall. Koenma and Botan try to interfere while Kazuma wonders if Shizune was always so slow. Orochi was at least twice her speed at his slowest. "No phone calls, no letters, no notice! Nothing for almost a month and now you show up covered in blood! What the fuck?!" Finally with a sigh he darts forward a sliver thick needle hidden in his palm. Without a word he fakes her into position inserting the needle into a nerve cluster. As she collapses he catches her pulling her up onto his other broad shoulder. Ignoring the silent questions he asks Koenma to lead the way - "Oh, Kuwabara-san, how did you do that and well, what did you do?" Luckily Yusuke is unconscious he would not appreciate him ignoring Keiko.

They arrive at their shower-equipped rooms Keiko quiet finally. Again Kazuma is pleased… for all of ten seconds. There are intruders in Team Koenma's quarters. Ignoring them he drops the spirit detective on the floor and gingerly sets down his false sister carefully removes the needle. The little brat in the baseball cap is trying to speak to him, but luckily his cell rings. Or not since this is an emergency line for the Honor Blades and a few others. Holding the cell between his ear and his shoulder he conducts a brief obliquity in English as he washes his hands. Although he speaks in English he has no delusions that Boton, Keiko, and Kurama aren't listening closely. So he finishes quickly and promises to call back soon. Grabbing a towel, some soap, and a light change of clothes he grabs his room key and leaves paying no mind to the disgruntled protest behind him.

Hmm, sunlight. Sunlight means daytime. Today is the first day of the tournament. Shit. One glance at his cell phone has Kazuma setting a new land speed record for the stadium closing in on the signatures of his teammates. "Well, if he - " Abruptly the fox-eared announcer is trying to spit out a large quantity of sand and gravel. "What the hell?!" Closing his eyes she spots the late comer - orange ringlets, blue eyes, pale skin, and height are her immediate impressions. That and that the little demon - Hiei?- is releasing killing intent far beyond her own, yet neither is having a discernable effect on the guy who actually looks kind of sleepy.

"What? I overslept. You ought to be happy I bothered waking up in the first place unlike Urameshi here." Stretching he cracks his shoulders before sinking into a lazy squat by Hiei. The obviously agitated announcer finishes her spiel as the scan picks out two fighters at random. Sadly for a certain bald-headed little brat his line-up is with Kuwabara. 'Hey its not my fault if certain little brats die because I get assign to them.' "Yeah, I get to kick butt on Mr. Too-cool." That garners a laugh from the crowd and a large, eerie smile from Kuwabara. "What are you smiling at stupid?" His smile breaks as he steps into the ring with the little twit. "I smile because its funny." "Oh, yeah?" "Mm-hmm." He replies nodding sagely, "the irony is enough to kill you."

Tuning out the yo--yo infomercial across from him Kazuma wonders if maybe he ought to hold out on showing more of his bone-abilities 'til later. Hell, he hasn't even shown his fledgling telekinesis yet. "Hey are you even listening to me?!" 'Define "listening".' a sardonic voice whispers in his head. - geez Orochi seems to have rubbed off on him. "Should I have been?" He watches the damn things come at him in what looks like slow-motion. "Hn." The next second the brat is staring at a long, very sharp bone-blade. "Give up and live, fuck with me and I'll do worse then simply kill you." Kuwabara doesn't even need to turn around to know the yo-yos are circling back to trap him.

'Thank goodness there isn't a roof overhead, I still haven't learned to control my legs.' Tori, Inu, Boar… As the bone-wieder slaps his glowing hands to the cement arena space he shouts - "Magen: Broken Reflection - Inner Traitor!" As soon as the words leave his mouth yo-yo boy finds his fingers have a life of their own. The strings manipulate the yo-yos toward him - struggling to get the strings off he actually tries to run away tripping over his own feet. In the next instant he is as intricately bound as a spider's next meal and slowly turning purple as the string round his neck tightens inexorably.

Chu's drunken shots seem to bring Jiru out of the shock that enshrouds the stadium. Up in the wings a tall, lean man crosses his arms as his rather effeminate partner shifts uncomfortably. Worry mars his androgynous beauty as his partner smirks, "This is the one we've been looking for Haku, the one Naru said to keep an eye on." "Haku" nods even as he wonders what this new persona means for their future plans. Neither notices the ghost studying them aquamarine eyes cold and wary.


End file.
